


The Road So Far

by thirdwheelsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:46:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdwheelsam/pseuds/thirdwheelsam
Summary: a collection of destiel/deancas one shots! i don't post my writing online much, so there's definitely room to improve. i hope you like this!





	1. Red Hot

note: this occurs in 12x19 after cas walks back into the bunker after being in heaven for so long. instead of dean storming off angrily, though, i wrote it so that cas retaliates, and the scene takes a different direction.

also, this is EXTREMELY cringey, so read at your own risk.  
  


 

 

    "Let me rephrase that for Sam. Where the  _hell_  have you been? And why have you ignored our phone calls?"  
    Ah, there he went. Dean Winchester picked his way through the tangled jungle of his emotions yet again. He managed to be tripped by the vines of anger on his way to relief of Cas' return and  _man_ , were those vines eager.  
    So yeah — Dean was mad. Unfairly so, but he was.   
    And for once, Castiel wouldn't stand for it.  
    "If it concerns you so, i've been in Heaven. And, not surprisingly, Heaven doesn't have cell service. I don't see why you're so appalled." The malice of Castiel's tone was sharp and pointed and  _ooh_ , was it uncharacteristic.  
    But it was good.  
    It was attractive, actually.  
    But the vines of anger wrapped tighter around Dean's ankles, tracing his spine and weaving through his hairline. So he couldn't see the appeal. Not then.  
    Yeah, no, they were gonna have a problem there.  
    "What's with the tone, asshat? Am i not allowed to be concerned for your wellbeing?!" Dean's voice shook and ebbed and flowed with the molten lava of absolute fury.  
    Castiel wasn't much cooler, the volcano of his kept composure on the brink of explosion, discarding the remnants everywhere.  
    Sam, who'd been standing silently beside Dean, began to back away rather than intervene, because when those two got at it, they got  _mean_.  
    "In case you've forgotten, Dean, I am not yours. I am not your service dog like you seem to think i am. You only call me when you need me as a tool to use. Am i really family to you? It doesn't look like it. Not to me. So you can give up your act, Dean, because i'm done buying it."  
    Alright; that stung. That stung Cas and it stung Dean and the air dissipated as quickly as the morning dew because all that could be felt there in that room was nothing.  
    The room grew empty of all except Dean, a hurt expression plastered to his visage, and Cas, trying to conceal his inner shock with a mask of "i-don't-care-for-you".  
    Well, Cas did care for Dean.  
    But okay.  
    Minutes passed. And I mean long, goopy, stretched-out minutes. And then Dean broke his stare, redirecting his gaze to the ground.  
    A surrender?  
    No. Oh,  _hell_  no. The anger coursing through Dean's entire being turned from red hot and flaming to cold.  
    Cold and unfeeling and empty and broken.  
    "If i'm no longer family," Dean snarled, his fists clenching and unclenching, "then you better walk right out that door, and if you do, i don't ever wanna see you coming back."  
    Ah, a parallel! So great in its composure, in its form, in its representation. Except it was a little lopsided.  
    Because this really did appall Cas. His jaw halted in its grinding and his hands relaxed at his sides because everything about him was freezing, falling, appalling.  
    But Cas walked right out that door.  
    With a hollow bang, it shut, and Cas didn't plan on coming back.  
    But he didn't want to leave yet. He couldn't.  
    So he slumped against the outside wall, the ironic warmth of the day frying him, taunting him.  
_Red hot red hot red hot_. Like Dean's anger, like Baby's leather seats at the peak of summer, like that apple pie that Cas tried to bake for Dean back in '13. In summary, he'd almost fried the bunker to a crisp. So never again.  
    But he did miss trying for Dean.  
    He missed crying for Dean. So that's exactly what he did.  
    He slid against the wall to the ground, back pressed into the bunker, knees up by his face. The door was just a few feet to the left. He could go back. He could fix things. He could, he could, he could and he knew he could.  
    But Dean had said never come back. So that was exactly what rule Cas planned to follow.  
    But  _what_  had gotten into Cas that day? Couldn't he just have agreed with Dean, let them both move on? Couldn't he have? Cas felt his eyes welling up and hardly noticed when a tear caressed his cheek because he could have and he didn't.  
    Cas loved Dean too much to let himself believe that he didn't mean the same to Dean. That he was just a tool. So he tried to get Dean to prove his theories wrong and Dean didn't and it was all over.  
    And Dean had told Cas to never come back.  
    And that's when Castiel caught that a certain parallel might have been a bit... misused.

 

    Back in the bunker, Dean hadn't moved. I mean, sure, he'd moved his fist to his mouth in the classic Dean Winchester "don't cry don't cry don't cry" manner, but otherwise, his feet were rooted. His head was as unrooted as could be, though. His thoughts were spiraling and he couldn't think straight because Cas was gone and he'd left and Dean doubted that he even cared.  
    Did Cas even hesitate when he left?  
    Did he even look back?  
    That, to Dean, would have been as much a sign as any. A flashing red "hey! follow me! drag me back into this bunker and we can be family like usual!". Dean would've chased him. He would have held him, he would've told him he needed him, he would've apologized.  
    He would've.  
    But Cas didn't look back. He was gone. He was  _gone_.  
    Dean loved Cas too much to express his concern calmly, healthily. Because a love like that is not flowing and cool and calm, but erupting and spinning and  _red hot red hot red hot._  
    Like those Sundays when they'd tried to barbecue and the fire that Dean and Cas had nursed when Sam had dragged them on a family camping trip and the temperature of the mixtape Dean had crafted so carefully for Cas because he cared about him so, so much.  
    No, but really — that mixtape was straight fire. Like,  _damn_.   
    But Dean didn't really ponder on that.  
    Because when he thought about all of the times he and Cas had laughed and cried and lived together, he realized that it didn't matter if Cas had cared about leaving or not.  
    Because Dean did. And he was going to follow him out of that door and find him and hold him and bring him home.  
    And that's when he realized that he never should have asked him to leave.  
    He only asked that of his brother. Not that he should've, but he did. And Cas wasn't anything like a brother to him.  
    That much he had come to realize.  
    So yeah, that parallel was a little lopsided.

 

    Cas held his head in his hands.  
_I'm a screw up. I'm a good-for-nothing. I'm a screw up. I'm a good-for-nothing. I ruined us and i'm nothing i'm nothing i'm nothing i'm —_  
    Cas' own sob broke his train of thought. Sharp and piercing and broken and all things empty.   
    Cas hadn't quite realized how big a piece of him Dean was until he tried to lose him.   
    And as he cried into his hands, tears slipping down his cheeks and neck and staining his collar, he thought about zillions of things.  
    But he never would have thought that Dean needed him just as much as he needed Dean.

 

    Dean wouldn't have thought it either.  
    I mean, there Dean was, strong and winning the fight. And when Cas delivered that punch, well, Dean delivered one right back! He should have been proud of himself. He won!  
    But oh, no, he didn't.  
    And it was just then that he realized it.  
    Yes, it was as he tried to will his feet closer to wherever Cas may be that he realized how much of a piece of Dean Cas was.  
    You can't call a puzzle complete when most of its pieces are missing.  
    Dean learned that.  
    They'd hardly ended that fight and Dean was already regretting it; that was new.   
    This feeling was new. This longing for Cas.  
    Well, it wasn't. But it was newly recognized.  
    Because before, Dean wouldn't have admitted that he wanted Cas.  
    But here, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. The closest he could get to that, though, was shouting it from the top of the staircase, so he figured he'd do it.  
    Yeah, he'd do it.  
    Or something like it.  
    He tried to repress his trembling as he gripped the guard rail and began his ascent to "please forgive me"s.

 

    Meanwhile, Cas was sort of struggling.  
    He wanted to get up. He wanted to leave. For Dean.  
    Dean wanted Cas gone, and Cas knew it well.  
    But at the same time, Cas couldn't just leave. He'd just gotten there. He needed time to formulate a real game plan. One that was detailed but that revolved around the most important objective: "never come back."   
    He didn't want to come back.  
    Well, he did. But not if it meant hurting Dean.   
    So with all the strength that Cas had, he arose and breathed out shakily. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and wondered why life was so unfair. And as Castiel took slow, unsteady steps towards wherever he was heading, he made himself aware of the facts that:  
a.) He really could not stop sobbing.  
b.) He could not live without Dean.  
    But as he kept on limping along, he realized that he already knew that all too well.

 

    Dean was shaking harder than he ever had by the time he'd reached the top of the stairs. His eyes were watering and his face was contorting with waves of emotion. He was overwhelmed. Could he do this?  
    Could he even try to turn things around?  
    Dean reached for the door handle, grappling it and tugging himself forward with its force. He laid his forehead on the door's cold steel to try and cool himself down. He wondered if he could.  
    Yeah, no. Probably not.  
    But did it matter?  
    Dean's shirt was damp at the neck from nervous sweat and tears and whatever else. The room was dim and cold. Dean was  _red hot red hot red hot_  and he didn't know why. And Sam was nowhere to be found.  
    So it was up to Dean to find something within the nothingness of the room.  
    He couldn't let himself be empty.  
    So with all of his willpower combined into one single force, he did it.  
    Dean Winchester cracked open the door.

 

    Cas took another step towards the forest beyond the bunker.  
    And another.  
    And another.  
    And anoth —  
    He collapsed. Full-on "i can't do this anymore" collapsed. Only a good ten feet from the door, partially concealed by a small shrub that had grown up before the establishment, and Castiel had managed to fall.  
    Not for the first time.  
    Not for the last.  
    Cas hung his head and just let himself cry. No more pretending to have strength where he didn't. No more.

 

    Dean stepped out onto the gravel lot. The rocks reassembled beneath his feet, just as his thoughts were linking together and breaking themselves, not able to make sense of anything.  
    It was just one fight.  
    But it was almost as profound as Dean and Cas' bond.  
    So Dean kept slowly inching forward. He needed to find Cas. He needed his forgiveness.  
    He needed him.  
    And before Dean could think anything more, before he could shuffle another inch forward, before he could feel regret a second longer, he saw him.  
    "Cas?"

 

    Now, Cas had heard the gravel being stomped into the ground behind him. But he didn't care.  
    He didn't really care about anything right then.  
    He was as empty as the void.  
    But a voice too familiar to ignore rang out behind him, and he could hardly keep himself on the ground. He whipped his tear-streaked head around.  
    "Dean?"

 

    Cas was kneeling in the gravel.  
    That's the first thing that Dean noticed.  
    And that's just about the only thing, because when Dean saw Cas he sort of just lost all composure.  
    He started walking.  
    Fast.  
    And as Cas tried to stand up only to fall again, and as Dean sped over to him, things were shifting.  
    "No, stay there. I'm here." Dean wasn't gonna make poor lightheaded Cas stand up. Dean could reach him from where he was.  
    He could embrace him.  
    Cas' eyes filled with hope and relief and tears and Dean's reflected it. The hunter took to his knees before the angel and tugged Cas into his lap.   
    "I'm sorry." It was the first thing that Dean could think to say. But Cas wasn't thinking the same thing.  
    He'd already forgiven Dean.  
    So Cas grabbed Dean's hair and pulled his face into Cas' shoulder.  
    And they held each other and wouldn't let go.

 

    It was minutes before they released each other, and even then one's hands were grappling for a piece of the other to hold.

 

    "I forgive you. Genuinely, I do." Cas sniffled, his hands cemented to Dean's shoulders.  
    "I don't deserve that. I'm a dick. You shouldn't accept my crap. You shouldn't... shouldn't accept  _me_." Dean slurred his speech, his eyes everywhere but Cas'. Dean just couldn't look up.  
    Cas would make him.  
    "No, you're not, Dean. Hold yourself in a higher respect. And look at me." Cas ducked his head to find Dean's eyes.  
    Dean met Cas' careful gaze.  
   "I'm the one who doesn't deserve forgiveness, Dean. But you've given it. So... i'll always give it back to you." Dean reached his hand up to grip Cas' forearm and averted his gaze again.  
    "Dammit, Cas, I love you. I hope you know that."  
    Cas' mouth fell open. The sun paused in its boastful shining, the gravel stopped shifting beneath their knees, the birds paused in their melodious chirping, the spiders rested quietly in their webs and didn't make a sound.  
    All that were there were Dean and Cas.  
    And it may have seemed empty, with all of the silence, but it could not have been a fuller place.  
    It could not have.  
    "No one's ever told me they love me before." Now it was Cas' turn to avert shimmering eyes.  
    Dean's heart broke with that one sentence.  
    But his next move would mend both of theirs.  
    Dean's grip shifted from Cas' forearm to cup his cool cheek. He reached his other arm up to rest on his neck.  
    He could feel Cas' rapid pulse.  
    Dean was glad to know that the nervousness and excitement and relief were mutual.  
    Cas widened his eyes, went rigid with everything. It was all so overwhelming.  
    "Is this okay?" Dean whispered anxiously.  
    A little awkward. A little too much hesitation. But a necessary question, one hundred percent.  
    "Of course," Cas breathed. He quirked a soft smile that melted Dean's heart.  
    And Dean would have dragged his thumb along Cas' lip, but man, they'd both had enough waiting. So Dean dove right in.  
_Blue meets green meets blue meets green meets blue meets..._  
    They were into it. Hopelessly lost in each other. Curled up before an infant patch of shrubbery, atop gravel like a bed of nails, but they couldn't feel that.  
    They could only feel each other's warmth.  
    As Dean Winchester kissed Castiel, something changed. Maybe it was the jungle of Dean's emotions taming. Maybe it was Castiel's tears being dried. Maybe it was the emptiness being filled. Maybe it was Sam peering out of a crack in the door, with or without a camera in hand to document the moment.  
    Yeah, no, he definitely had a camera. Not in a creepy way.  
    One thing was certain in both of the boys' minds, though.  
    The puzzle pieces had joined together and were not going to separate.  
    They could call themselves complete.  
_Red hot red hot red hot._


	2. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's some brokeback mountain spoilers in here, so if you don't wanna be spoiled, i wouldn't read this (not that i've ever seen the movie myself, though, so it's not mentioned in detail).

    "Dude, I swear to god, if you eat any more of my popcorn i'm gonna holy freaking smite your ass." 

    "Dean, you burnt my popcorn to a crisp. What else am i supposed to eat?" Cas shot a tired look at Dean, who suddenly was all red cheeks and shy eyes.  
    Probably because Dean was laid back on his bed, and Cas was right next to him. The two were shoulder-to-shoulder, nearly cheek-to-cheek, and one could feel the other rising with their breathing.  
    And now Cas was turned towards Dean, his face so close to Dean's own.  
    So you could safely say that Dean was a bit flustered.  
    "Yeah, whatever," Dean averted his eyes, adjusting the computer sat on Dean and Cas' thighs. "Let's just start the movie."  
    The hunter's pick for their weekly movie was Tombstone. The week before, they'd watched some Clint Eastwood film that Cas couldn't remember for the life of him, and before that it'd been James Bond. So, naturally, Dean had to check this one off their watchlist.   
    "I've heard good things about a cowboy movie called Brokeback Mountain," Cas thought aloud, speaking through the popcorn stuffed in his cheeks. He looked to Dean. "Is that one of your favorites, too?"  
    If Dean's face wasn't soaked in a blush before, well, it surely was then. He nearly choked on a handful of popcorn.   
    "Ah... I mean... well... i enjoyed it, yeah, but... um..."   
    Cas cocked his head, so comforting in its familiarity.  
    Oh, what would Dean do without Cas?  
    And what would he do  _with_  him? Dean couldn't answer that question about Brokeback Mountain for his life. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but he just could not say "yes, i love that damn movie and i wish we were gay cowboys too, minus the death and the consent issues."  
    Ah, wait, nope. He could totally pinpoint why.  
    "Perhaps we could watch that movie after this one." Cas spoke slowly, his eyebrows still arched in that "what-the-hell-are-you-doing-Dean" manner of his.   
    "Yeah," Dean breathed, eyes cemented to the computer screen, not seeing but distracting. "Perhaps."  
    That boy could not meet Cas' eyes.  
    That angel noticed.   
    Dean's hands scrambled to que up the DVD interface on his laptop.  
    Cas' hands scrambled to stop that.  
    The men sat pressed together on the bed, Dean warm with fluster and drowsiness, Cas cool with his chilly aura and stoic poise, his hand over Dean's.  
_Ooh_.   
    Cas wanted to put a hand on Dean's shoulder, to ask what he said that was so wrong. But, of course, there was one issue with that:  
    They were pressed shoulder to shoulder. Cas' hand couldn't fit between them.  
    So, naturally, Castiel slipped his arm around Dean's shoulders, letting his hand rest on Dean's arm.  
    The hunter tensed.  
    The angel noticed.  
    "I'm sorry for whatever i said that made you uncomfortable," Cas' voice was near a whisper. Rough yet soft, gravel yet fresh asphalt. Dean forced himself to glance up.  
    He managed to mumble "It's alright, Cas. Not your fault."   
    Cas smiled, more with his eyes than with his mouth.  
    (Those two, basically attached at the eyes. They never stop, do they?)  
    Dean reciprocated it, looked to the computer screen, and began the movie.  
    Dean hooked his arm around Cas' waist as calmly and nonchalantly as a love-stricken man in his position could.  
    The hunter tried not to show his teeth with his smile, tried to keep it in his eyes. (He failed.)  
    And the angel noticed.

 


	3. Movie Night: Holiday Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little rough... writer's block is frustrating. also — cas is human in this one, but he still has wings. they're just kinda burnt out... yikes. good luck, cas.

    Dean strode down the hallway towards his room, his laptop in his arms and his steps cushioned with a warm, nearly tangible contentment. To say that he was excited would be an understatement; he was heading to watch a movie with Castiel, so Dean was practically bouncing off of the walls.  
    Though he'd never admit that.  
    Ever.  
    "'National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation'!" Dean cracked a grin as he waltzed through the doorway towards Cas. Sunlight burst from his beam. "A Christmas classic!"   
    Cas tilted his head and squinted in that familiar way of his.   
    The way that Dean thought was, y'know... kinda cute.  
    To add to the adoration, the angel was lying across Dean's bed, his feet kicked up on a pillow. A bowl of popcorn was balanced on his chest, and he was donned in one of Dean's old Christmas sweaters.  
    It was scratchy and, quite frankly, ugly, but the glow in Dean's eyes when he saw Cas made up for it.  
    "Dean, I still do not understand what a Lampoon is."   
    Dean opened his mouth to respond.  
    And then he closed it.   
    Not for long, though — a grin ravaged his features as he climbed up next to Cas, his laptop tucked under his shoulder.  
    "Yeah, uh, that's not really — not really important to the plot, I guess, so, uh... just watch."   
    Cas was still extremely perplexed, but he offered up a smile that took Dean's mind back to all those times he'd wanted to hold Cas and never let go.  
    Mm, this was one of those times.  
    Could you blame him, though?  
    Dragging himself out of that train of thought, Dean propped his laptop up on his thighs and pulled up the DVD interface. The movie began a short few seconds later.   
    The two were silent for at least ten minutes, the popcorn keeping them occupied enough. Sometimes Cas' hand would brush Dean's while reaching for the popcorn and Dean would have to struggle to bite back a stubborn "Cas, you remember that thing about personal space?". But Dean would quickly realize that he was just making a fool of himself trying to hide how flustered he was; so then he'd just try to tune out everything besides the bickering Griswolds on his laptop screen.  
    But his heart would simultaneously leap at Cas' touch, no matter how accidental.  
    The hunter almost didn't realize why.  
    But he had a pretty clear idea.  
    A few more minutes came and went before Cas' throat cleared abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Cas' head tilt in Dean's direction. He could imagine the confusion weaved into his glance.  
    Oh boy.  
    "Dean..." Cas looked to the hunter, who sighed rather dramatically. "The father says that they are going to put that tree in their living room, but it would never fit! Do they know that? Is this a loophole in the story? Is — "  
    Cas' relentless questioning was interrupted by Dean's laughter.   
    Dean was  _laughing_.  
    For the first time in who knows how long, Dean was wheezing, nearly in tears, over his best friend.   
    The little nerdy dude with wings just didn't get it.   
    "Gosh, Cas," Dean breathed through giggles, "you analyze too much."  
    A grin branched from Cas' confused pout.   
    "Dean, I'm afraid I don't understand, but it is nice to see you smile."  
    So Dean kept smiling.  
    He wrapped an arm about Cas' shoulders because what the heck? It was Christmas, and he was gonna enjoy himself.  
    And because Dean figured that this was the moment he'd like to remember most from this night, so why not make it even better?  
    Exactly. There was no reason not to. So he did.  
    And Cas glowed.  
    It was a glow like the sun creeping out from behind a wall of clouds, a candle illuminating the night, a fire crackling comfortingly on the hearth.  
    It was nice.  
    It was  _really_  nice.  
    And neither of the two wanted it to end.  
    So they continued watching the movie, Dean tugging Cas closer and Cas tucking his head into Dean's shoulder.  
    As Cas fell asleep, curling into Dean's side and draping an arm across his chest, Dean felt something he'd never felt before. He'd never felt this way for any woman or cowboy, any enticing demon or even any slice of particularly scrumptious pie.  
    Nah, never. This was new.  
    He was pretty sure it was love. Pure, selfless, full and complete love.  
    Everything he'd ever loved was temporary. Food? Temporary. Stars? Temporary. Cars? Mm hm — temporary.   
    But Cas was different. He was infinite. Dean didn't want to ever let him go.  
    So he wouldn't.  
    The man that he held so tightly to his chest, the man so worn down and broken from his past who was now so warm with slumber, was a man that Dean would never give up. Dean reached forward and closed his laptop, lowering it to the floor.  
    He took a deep breath.  
 _One life, Winchester_ , Dean thought to himself.  _You both have one life to live. So live it._  
    Dean shifted both Cas and himself so that they were lying flat on the bed rather than propped up against the wall. Cas stirred slightly; only enough to grapple onto a bit of Dean's shirt and shift nearly completely atop him.  
    Dean smiled. He was more than good with that.  
    Dean brought his arms up and wrapped them about Cas' back. He felt Cas' chest rise and fall against his own and wondered how he got so lucky.  
    How  _did_  he get so lucky?  
    Dean wasn't quite sure. But as he pressed his cheek to Cas' temple, he became sure of one thing:  
    He had one life, and he was going to live it with Castiel by his side.


	4. Third-Wheel Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i love sam so much.

_You've got to bring him back._

_-_  
_Goodbye, Cas._  
_-_  
_Maybe you can forget about that, but_ i can't _._  
_-_  
_Is that really you?_  
_-_  
_Welcome home, pal._  
_-_  
    It ran through his head every day. A high-speed chase, a track meet, the last stretch before the finish line when your foot is jammed into the gas pedal and you're pushing yourself to your limits.  
    It  _ran_.  
    A montage. Image after image after image of Cas. Of  _Cas_. He never thought he'd get him back. Some storylines can't be predicted. For him, this was one of those.  
    He had been so empty.  
    So was Cas. It was hard to tell which was more encapsulated by the Empty. They both had their fair share of it.  
    Cas' Empty was a place.  
    His was nothing but a state of mind.  
    But it was something. And it stung just as bad.  
    When Cas came back, he couldn't fathom it. It didn't sink in until Cas held his gaze on their commute to Dodge City or when Cas fixed his coffee and tossed him a shy smile or when their hands brushed whilst busting out their best bow-legged saunter.  
    Dean Winchester learned to appreciate the little moments.  
    So did Castiel.  
    And Dean decided that something could be made of their new-found appreciation.  
    So with "you'll regret it if you don't do it" instilled in his brain, Dean inhaled as deep as he could without his lungs bursting.  
    He took a step forward.  
    "Cas..."

 

                                      
_moments earlier..._

 

    "I've got a case." The familiar call echoed strong through the bunker kitchen as Sam waltzed in, gray Henley tight about his torso. His laptop was  
balanced on his arm, and denim jeans complemented the look.  
    At eight o'clock in the morning.  
   Dean, who was sat at the table, winced, dropping his head into his hands.  
    "Sam, it's too early for this. Jeans? Before caffeine? Blasphemy." Dean raised his head. "And quiet down. You're a denim-wrapped megaphone." He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Sam tossed him a puzzled glance before spotting the full mug of coffee sitting neglected before Dean. Ahh, yeah, he could chalk his rough mood up to that.   
    "Where's Cas?" Sam took his usual seat across from Dean.  
    "He went to get me a blanket."  
    "Why couldn't you get your own?" Dean's eyes shot up, cold in his stare. Sam nearly chuckled. He bit his tongue.  
    "Because i'm freezing-freaking-cold and i'm tired and he offered." Sam couldn't hold back his snicker this time.  
    "Right."  
    Sam elected he'd postpone announcing further details on the new case until Cas came in, so he arose to fetch himself whatever Dean had left in the coffee pot.  
    Sam knew that Cas had made it for Dean, and  _damn_ , did Cas know how to brew coffee. Sam could barely lay a hand on the steaming pot, though, before heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hallway and entered the kitchen.  
    Cas.  
    The angel didn't seem to notice Sam — his eyes were fixed to Dean. A blanket the color of Cas' eyes was tucked between his arms and chest. A hint of concern dyed Cas' visage at the sight of Dean's head-in-hands and coffee-left-to-go-cold position. Sam nearly chuckled audibly, but he figured he'd leave his presence unknown for a moment more.   
    So he did.  
    Cas rounded the table and unfolded the blue blanket swiftly. In one quick move, he wrapped it about Dean's shoulders, redirected his fingertips to Dean's cheek, and leaned into him.  
    Wait, he — Cas — he what?  
    Sam had to put an unreal amount of effort into not croaking in shock.  
    Because  _what_?  
    Dean tilted his head up to look into Cas' inquiring eyes. He let his weight fall into Cas' hand, and just like that, Cas was sitting.   
    The hunter and the angel were shoulder-to-shoulder, one cupping the other's cheek and the other leaning into the touch with a shy smile and averted eyes and rosy cheeks and all hints of the previous night's insomnia eradicated (if only for a moment).  
    "Hey," Cas murmured, "is something wrong?" Dean smiled, exhaled, met Cas' gaze for just a moment before shifting his timid eyes back to the floor.  
    "No, just... just tired, 's'all."   
    And before Sam could even comprehend what he was seeing, his brother's hand slid up Cas' arm to cover the angel's hand on Dean's cheek.  
    Yeah, nope, nope, nope.  
    Sam felt a blush stain his face. How was he supposed to get out of this?  
    I mean, he'd done it before. But there,  _in his own kitchen!,_  he felt a little trapped.  
_Time to play the Sneaky Sam card_ , he thought. A smile played out on his lips.   
_Okay, no, you're really not that funny. Stop smiling at yourself._  
     Stupid self-deprecating thoughts. Sam smirked again anyway.   
    He didn't know what Dean and Cas were doing at that very moment, which he was very glad to be oblivious of, but he knew what he was gonna do.  
    Dean had always been a fan of cowboys, and Cas liked those Boomerang cartoons, but Sam was more of a spy guy.   
    Yeah — he was definitely more of a ninja sort of dude.   
    Finally, he could break out the skills he'd acquired in his first grade karate class.   
_Let's do this_.  
    In a manner too dramatic to be appropriate, Sam dropped to the floor. Not a silent, smooth drop like he'd been hoping for, but an almost-lose-your-balance, mosh pit breakdown kind of drop.   
    Whatever. At least he was concealed by the island counter before him. Now, he could begin picking his way through the kitchen and, in the best circumstances, sprint through the hallway to his room.  
    Hm. A challenge.   
    A rather challenging challenge.  
    But Sam was a rather worthy candidate to take on this quest, and the sudden silence from the table strengthened his cause. He could tell that Dean and Cas were partaking in eye banging, yet again. Sam needed to get out of there before they, y'know.  
    Actually banged.  
    And so the mission began.  
    With as much of an absence of sound as could be administered, Sam crawled between the walls shaped by the kitchen island and the vintage appliances. He poked his head out from behind the island, only for a moment, so that he could detect a safe route out and judge the gravity of the situation.   
    Because if his brother and his best friend were glued together by the lips, well...  
    Sam was pretty sure he'd just disintegrate; that type of embarrassment was too much to bear.  
    But that's not what Sam saw. It was quite the opposite, actually.  
    Dean was standing now, his back to Sam, better securing the blanket about himself. His motions were jagged and slowed by drowsiness. Cas had gotten to his feet too, which Sam assumed was so that he could hold Dean steady. One hand was hovering over Dean's stiff shoulder.   
    After a moment, Cas took a step back, an expression of concern cultivating on his usually stoic visage. Sam's eyebrows furrowed.  
    He knew that he should pull back and hide, but this was interesting; entertainment at its finest. I mean, seriously — just when you think they're going to take it to the world map table and go crazy on each other, they break each other up and step away.   
    Where there had been two magnets of opposite poles there were now two positive, and, as far as Sam predicted, they seemed to both be positive of the same thing;  _he doesn't love me back._  
    Wrong. (Or so Sam's deductions said. And he was probably correct; that boy was sharp.) But okay.  
    Sam was perplexed as to why Cas was backing away until Dean turned his back on the angel. And then Sam cocked his head.  
    The hunter had replaced the exhaustion dripping from his face with a look that just couldn't be placed; it was somewhere between elation and confusion and fury and curiosity. (Or so it seemed.)  
    But before Sam could ponder further on Dean's hodgepodge visage, Cas piped up anxiously, his voice small and condensed.  
    "Dean? Did i do something?"  
    Dean's face softened at Cas' voice.  
    "No, no, no. I was just thinking over some things." He dragged a hand down his face. His eyelids were drooping and he looked as if he could collapse at any second. But there was something else ravaging his features, too. Something new.  
    Sam nearly hummed his surprise aloud. He felt less like he was invading privacy and more like he was watching a random drama rerun on TNT. If only he had slightly over-popped popcorn to go along. Now  _that'd_  be a spectacle.   
    Dean's throat suddenly cleared and dug Sam out of his train of thought.  
    And then Dean turned around.  
    He took a step towards Cas. His eyes were skeptical and scared and jumpy and ready and hungry.   
    All was silent.  
    But it wasn't long before the quiet was pierced.  
    "Cas..."   
    Dean extended his trembling hand and rested it on Cas' shoulder.   
    It was familiar, but there was something a tad bit different. And Cas noticed.  
    The angel squinted and tilted his head in that way that Sam  _knew_  Dean found attractive.  
    He could imagine the sweet smile that branched off of Dean's lips and crinkled his vibrant eyes.  
    Sam was gonna throw up. If this was candy, he didn't have a sweet tooth. The moose was just disgusted.  
    But also sort of pleased. And sort of surprised.  
    Because Dean inhaled as deep as could be and then breathed out the words that Sam could imagine he'd been mentally perfecting for years.  
    "Cas, man, you mean a lot to me. I can't really express it right now, but i care for you more than anything. And i don't love you like a brother, but, ah.... like something else." Sam could see Dean shifting his feet. The poor dude was  _so_  scared. Sam almost snorted. But then Dean kept speaking. "if you feel the way i do, hopefullyicouldpossiblykissyoumaybe."  
    Cas reversed his squinted eyes. He straightened his head.  
    He smiled.  
    And his lips met Dean's.  
    And then Sam jerked back behind the counter. He did not wanna see that. No, sir.   
    Judging by the all-too prominent sounds, the two were seriously getting into it.   
    So Sam set off on a dead sprint towards the hall leading to his room.  
    As silently as could be allowed, he blasted out of there, mentally chanting "NOT TODAY, SATAN" on repeat.  
    It was only eight fifteen. His stomach was not stable enough to see that at eight fifteen in the  _morning_.   
    Compared to a make-out session, jeans looked fantastic that early.  
    Yeah... definitely.


	5. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is suuuuper sloppy, so i'd definitely love to revisit the idea of a family game night sometime. but i just wanted to pave a pathway for that so here's this LOL

    "Dean, you're cheating."  
    "No, I'm not! I'm just, y'know... bending the rules a little bit."  
    "I believe that qualifies as cheating."  
    Sam dragged a hand down his face as Dean quirked a boyish grin at Cas. Sam had to deal with them constantly, but they were always the worst on game night. Dean teased Cas more than could be healthy then, and Sam had to witness it up close.  
    Being the third wheel was not light work.  
    Sam was mentally mapping out an elaborate escape route when Cas sighed and looked to Sam with deep sorrow.  
    "Sam, i'm so sorry to ruin the evening, but i'm afraid we'll have to end the game if he doesn't stop." Cas fixed a pointed stare to Dean.  
    "What?! Cas, we've never stopped the game when i've broken — um, bent — the rules!"  
    "Then it's about time that we do. I'm sick of it." Dean nearly gasped. His eyebrows shot up with a dramatic tone that had same Sam biting back a laugh.   
    I mean, it was just a board game after all.  
    It was literally just chutes and ladders.  
    But to Dean and Cas, it seemed to be worth every argument it enacted and more. Sam didn't have a single clue why, but he did know that it brought a hint of domesticity into their lives that they'd never known.   
    So maybe  _that_  was their reason for being so attached to a dusty old board game Dean had spotted beneath the Impala's back seats.  
    "Okay, Mr. Attitude," Dean spat, his tone rough with severity. "If that's how you want it, then that's how it'll be."  
    And Sam actually cackled.  
    A full-on bout of laughter sputtered out from his mouth and before he could stop it he was red-faced, nearly falling out of his chair.   
    "Wh — what?" Dean stuttered. And when he tossed a glance at Cas, he realized that he was giggling too.  
    Cas — stone-faced Cas — was giggling.  
    His visage was overcome with a gale of laughter because:  
    1.) "Mr. Attitude". That was  _funny_.  
    2.)  _Man_ , what an argument.  
    They were so stupid.  
    Dean shook his head and grinned, his eyes alight.  
    And, unable to control himself, he walked over to Cas' side of the table. The angel paused in his leisure at the look on Dean's face.  
    Apologetic.  
    Well, that was a new one.  
    "Man, I'm sorry. That was so pointless." Dean shook his head at himself and laughed quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
    Cas stood from his chair to meet Dean's height.   
    "There's no need for apologies, Dean. We argue all the time. This is no different. We're just being..." Cas yielded in his speech, as if he was choosing his next word carefully. "Us."  
    Dean's eyes met Cas'.  
    "Yeah, okay."   
    A pause. Then, Dean spoke again:  
   "C'mere."   
    The hunter tugged Cas into the tightest hug that he could manage. He felt Cas tuck his face into the crook of Dean's neck.   
    It made Dean smile to know that they were close enough to do that. Somehow, the fallen angel and the righteous man discovered each other, and had become so much more than could ever have been speculated.  
    And that much they'd never lose.


End file.
